


School's Out, and This is the End of the Line

by My_Beautiful_Idiot



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Angst, Blood and Gore, Drug Addiction, Emotional, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-14
Updated: 2013-06-27
Packaged: 2017-12-08 12:47:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/761468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/My_Beautiful_Idiot/pseuds/My_Beautiful_Idiot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of stabbings in Birmingham, Alabama gets the team out to Jefferson County. Meanwhile, Spencer continues to struggle with Maeve's death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm hoping to turn this into a full blown story, but knowing me that may take a long, LONG time.  
> This chapter does NOT contain any Emily/Spencer. That's coming later. Patience.  
> I have an entire storyline written out for this, and in future chapters this is gonna get real emotionally dark. Fair warning.  
> The high school referenced in this DOES exist, but the events I'm going to create around it DO NOT. They are FICTITIOUS- I made them up!  
> I hope you enjoy, this is certainly quite a lot of fun to write.  
> This is a very heavily Spencer orientated story, just warning y'all now.

He sits in his car and he watches his house. Is this really the right choice? Is what he’s about to do really justified? His hands sweat and he rubs them against the steering wheel, suddenly unnerved by these doubts. Maybe he should just go home. His Mom’s probably missing him by now and-

The moment he catches sight of his face, the doubts dissipate and reform into rage. Next thing he knows he’s out of the car and walking across the street. The street lamps have turned from that usual white into a warning red. _Run while you can, you ass._

He sees him approach, but he doesn’t see the knife. He watches him as he storms toward him, angered that he’s even here, that he _dares_ to look him in the eye.

“What the hell are you doing here, you little shit?” he taunts. Dumb move. The blow to the face comes quickly, and he falls to the ground. Before he can get up, his attacker jumps on him, and he feels the knife suddenly entering and leaving his body in quick succession. _One. Two. Three. Four. Five._ The pain was unbearable. Every blow of the knife made him want to curl up. Blood oozed from the wounds, and soon he began to feel cold.

“Please, stop... Please.” _Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen._ His attacker paused, and looked down into his eyes. The terror in them- it was intoxicating. His victim shivered violently.

“Did you ever stop? When she begged you to?” _Sixteen._ “No.” _Seventeen._ “Never.”

He died around blow 20, but the attacker only stopped after blow 34. He then sliced into his face. The feel of his victim’s skin separating because of him... This was what revenge felt like. And this was only the beginning.

\--------------------------------------

“Good morning my intrepid adventurers!” Garcia was in her usual mood as the team sat down to be briefed on their new case. “Or, well, not so good morning for these guys,” she continued. As she said it, the pictures of 3 high school students appeared on the screen, portrait photos and crime scene photos alike.

“Wayne Wilson, 17; Robert Morris, also 17; and Ella Patterson, 16. All have been found dead in the past 2 weeks in Birmingham, Alabama. Specifically, Jefferson County.”

“Three in two weeks? Not much of a cooling off period...” Blake trailed off, eyes fixed on the crime scene photos in her folder. “Cause of death?”

“Each victim was stabbed over 30 times in the chest and abdomen. C.O.D on all victims was blood loss.”

“Overkill,” JJ said, sighing heavily. _How many pictures of dead teenagers is it gonna take before it gets any easier?_ Derek made some noise in agreement.

“And this was personal, painfully so. I mean look,” Morgan zoomed in on victim #1, Wayne Wilson,’s face on his tablet and showed it to the table. “There are cuts all over the face as well.”

“Ah, yes,” Garcia cut in, bringing up the close-up photos on the screen. “Preliminary reports say those were done post-mortem.”

“So our unsub’s purposefully disfiguring his victim’s faces,” Blake mused. “Could this to be to do with appearance?”

“Possibly,” said JJ “There’s obviously something this guy doesn’t like about faces.”

“Wait guys there’s one more thing,” Garcia piped up again. She brought up a map of the area and gestured to it saying; “All the dumpsites were in a 2 mile radius of Fultondale High School, where all our victims went to school.”

“So the unsub’s a student,” said Rossi.

“More than likely,” Spencer cut in, and the unanimous thought around the table was _here comes our statistic._ “In 14% of all murders, the victim and the offender are strangers. Spouses and family members make up about 15% of all victims, about one-third of the victims are acquaintances of the assailant.” The team stared at him for a moment. It never ceased to amaze how much like a wikipedia article he sounded like when he does that.

“Garcia,” she turned to look straight at Hotch. “Look into everyone associated with our victims. Friends, enemies; we need to find an overlap.”

“On it.”

“Jefferson County wants us on scene as soon as possible; we’ll talk more on the jet. Wheels up in thirty.”

The team gathered their things and made their way out of the round table room. Reid stumbled behind, dropping his bag, causing several of his things to fall out all over the floor. _I need to get out of my head._

“You okay down there, pretty boy?”

He looked up at Morgan to acknowledge him, but looked down again almost immediately, continuing to stuff his things back in his bag. Derek bent down to help, his brow furrowed. He picked up one of the many books Spencer carried around with him.

“ _The Narrative of John Smith._ Haven’t I seen you read this before?”

“What, I can’t re-read a good book now?” He snapped, and watched Morgan go to open it. He snatched it away from him quickly. He can’t let anyone _see_ what’s inside. That’s just for him to see.

“Woah there kid, I was only asking,” Derek replied, defensively. They stood up at the same time, but Derek stopped Spencer before he could storm off. “Hey, what’s going on with you? You’ve been like this all week.”

“Nothing, I’m fine.”

“Reid.”

“I said I’m fine.” He quickly pushed past Morgan and made his way down the corridor, stuffing the book in his bag.

 _I need to get out of my head_ , he repeated to himself. Thank God _they_ didn’t fall out of his bag. He didn’t want to have to explain. They wouldn’t understand. They don’t have to remember the things he does; he can’t forget, but he can get out of his head for a while. But he can’t right now. Later. He will later. When they get back from the case. Yes- he’ll hide them for now. He can’t risk them finding them. He can feel himself physically wincing at the memory. _I couldn’t save you, I couldn’t save you. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry._

“Spence!”

JJ’s voice pierced through his thoughts. He looked up at her, immediately reading the worry on her face.

“Are you okay?”

“Why does everyone keep asking me that? I’m fine.” He realised how defensive he’s been; that’s going to make everyone _more_ suspicious.

“A-alright,” she stammered. “Everyone’s on the jet, they’re waiting for you.” _Already?_ “We’re leaving in five, come on.”

He could feel the beginnings of another migraine coming on- they had returned since... then. Nothing worked anymore. Sleep was out of the question; he’d be lucky to get an hour if anything.

Escape. He just wanted to escape.

He rubbed his head, hoping that this migraine wouldn’t be as full blown as the others, and headed toward the jet. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the jet, the team go over the case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been a while: I apologise. But here's a filler chapter! I swear, it's gonna get better. However, I hope you enjoy this one anyway!

Part the way through the profile on the plane, Blake remembered something.

“Wasn’t there a school shooting there several years ago?” Reid nodded.

“Indeed,” he began. “Two people died from initial gunshots while another twenty-three died after the shooter, Jim Garland, let off a bomb in the school library. More than fifty were injured.”

“How long ago was this?”

“Five years ago this week," he replied. "Do you think it's connected?"

"Not sure, but it's certainly possible..." Blake trailed off, looking through her notes more. She wasn't sure why, but something about these deaths was connected to that event.

"Garcia," Hotch said, and immediately her radiant face appeared on screen, begging for something to do. She got bored ever so quickly.

"I want you to look into Fultondale and find out everything about the shooting."

"Right away, Sir!" She gave a little salute before signing off, causing Morgan to smile and shake his head. _Baby girl, you crazy._

"Meanwhile, Morgan and JJ, I want you to go to the latest crime scene, see what you can find." They nodded.

"Rossi and I will go to the station, see what they have. Reid and Blake," Reid looked up attentively. The migraine had begun to get worse, and he was finding it hard to concentrate, but he attempted to look engaged.

"I want you to go to the school and interview those with a connection to the victims- brothers and sisters; teachers; friends- see what you can find out. We'll interview the parents at the station. We'll be landing in about 20 minutes." Silent understanding resenated throughout the team, and quietly they all split off to their seats.

Reid got up and went to the back, getting another cup of coffee, the same thoughts running through his head over and over.

_I'm sorry, I'm so sorry I couldn't save you it's all my fault forgive me I'm sorry I'm sorry-_

"Spence?"

JJ's voice cut through the voices like a knife. She looked concerned. To be honest, they all did when they looked at him now. He hated it. He may be the youngest, but he wasn't a child. He could look after himself. JJ pointed to the coffee pot.

"Can I-?"

"Oh," he realised he was in the way and backed up to let her through. "Sorry, JJ..." He began to move back to his seat when she tugged on his sleeve, calling him back.

"Yeah?" he responded. Begging silently for her not to ask the same question people have been saying over and over for the last month-

"Are you okay?" _And there it is._

"I already told you, I'm fine." _I'm not fine. I'm not fine at all. I'm drowning JJ. I couldn't save her, she died because of me-_

"Okay then, but-" she stopped him as he made to sit down. "I know you're still hurting, and you know we're all here for you- right? If you need to talk, we're here." He smiled at her- a real, genuine smile of gratitude- and nodded.

"Thank you."

He pushed past her and sat down, looking out the window. He couldn't get rid of the guilt that was manifesting inside him. He thought ignoring it, pushing it down and locking it away, would numb the pain, but instead it cut him open, and he could feel himself breaking. He wasn't sure how much of him would survive this grieving. He wondered if it would be better if he just didn't have to feel. If it would help. A sudden jerk in the plane brought him out of his thoughts again, and he donned his seat belt as the plane began its decent.

_Maybe, just maybe, this case can stop the voices._

_Maybe it can help me heal._

Though he doubted it, he decided to hope anyway. Those families needed peace, and that was what they were going to get them.


End file.
